


The Basics

by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Leslie makes me write really sappy stuff, Love, M/M, Schmoop, the morning after, the things I will do for my friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sher_locked_up/pseuds/wearitcounts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning snogs, and coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Basics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scullyseviltwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullyseviltwin/gifts).



The flat isn’t cold this morning, finally, and there’s a sliver of sunlight leaking through the closed curtains that runs all up the bed and over John’s face. He cracks an eye, then the other, rolls over and buries his face in a pillow. He can’t help but inhale deeply around a sleepily satisfied smile.

He thinks about having a lie-in, but that’s a bit boring, isn’t it, without someone to lie in with. He throws the duvet off and over and swings his legs around and then he’s up, pads over to the doorway to the loo to relieve himself and clean his teeth. There’s coffee brewing in the kitchen, he can smell it, and normally he’s not so much a fan of fresh mint with a dark roast chaser but today, he’s got plans before coffee.

John walks down the hall and into the kitchen and Sherlock’s there, seated at the high top, running his eyes over some files Lestrade had sent over the day before, files that had been abandoned in the haze of good food and too much wine and the realisation that for all that was about to change, it was inevitable that they end up here. Sherlock doesn’t look up as John enters, doesn’t so much as move as John circles him, runs his hands down Sherlock’s arms, presses his forehead against Sherlock’s back and murmurs, “Good morning, you.”

“And to you.” The low thunder of Sherlock’s baritone vibrates against John, sends a thrilling shiver down his spine at the memory of the night before, of that same voice wrecked with desire, giving off long moans and deep sighs, wrapped around John’s own name, offering it back to him as a gift.

“I see you’re hard at work,” John says, but he doesn’t mind. He’s surprised Sherlock left the files as long as he did.

“Mm,” Sherlock agrees. “It’s petty theft, not Lestrade’s division. Favour for a colleague.” Sherlock finally looks up and and turns around, straddles his legs on either side of John’s and pulls him close. “Nothing that couldn’t wait.”

John grins and kisses him, softly, tugs gently on Sherlock’s bottom lip and pulls away. “I’m glad,” he says.

Sherlock’s mouth quirks in the funny sort of half-smile he seems to reserve only for John. “Coffee’s on.”

“Yes, thank you. Smells fantastic.” John rubs his nose against Sherlock’s, and Sherlock sighs.

“I didn’t imagine it like this,” he says.

John pulls back. “Is this not okay?”

“No, no.” Sherlock shakes his head, drops his arms to catch John’s hands in his own. “I only meant, I never quite knew what to imagine. How to imagine it. I could never quite… _see_ this far, I suppose. You and I. Us. With morning snogs. And coffee.” He seems bewildered by his own words and John loves him so much it hurts. “I don’t know quite how this works.”

“D’you know, neither do I?” John says. “I’ve always been rubbish at it. Well, you know.” He pauses. “It’s just, I think, maybe between the two of us, we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Sherlock sits up a little straighter at that. “You’re probably right,” he admits. “I _am_ possessing of superior intelligence, and you’re not nearly as stupid as everyone else on this planet.”

“Thanks,” John says fondly, and runs a hand through Sherlock’s hair, moves to cup his face, strokes Sherlock’s jaw with the pad of his thumb. “We’ll just remember the basics: morning snogs, and coffee.”

Sherlock kisses John on the mouth, so quickly he almost misses it, says, “Black, two sugars,” and turns back to his files.

Grinning, John fetches the mugs.


End file.
